


The Perfect Amount of Richie

by Ness09



Series: Stozier One-Shots [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: 5+1 Things, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Stan realizes he likes Richie, he's not very good at showing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 04:31:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12856803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ness09/pseuds/Ness09
Summary: The 5 times Stan thinks Richie is beautiful and the one time he actually tells him





	The Perfect Amount of Richie

They’re in the library, Ben and Mike working on a history project and the other Losers studying for a geography test tomorrow. Stan hasn’t noticed the uncommon silence until he glances up and sees Richie sleeping, his head pillowed on his crossed arms, glasses askew. Well, that certainly explains why they hadn’t been interrupted by a dick joke or Eddie trying to murder him in the past half hour.

Richie has had a rough night at home, not that he ever tells anyone, but Stan has known him for long enough to know something was wrong whenever Richie’s volume was set to max. He’d gotten detention in two classes and been thrown out of another one today. Maybe he should invite him over for dinner. His parents don’t mind, they like Richie, as surprising as that is, since Stan isn’t sure he always likes Richie and he is his best friend.

He looks vulnerable right now. His lips are slightly parted as he breathes evenly, his lids flutter every time Eddie who sits next to him, turns a page of his book, but he doesn’t wake up. His mess of dark curls falls into his face and Stan feels the sudden urge to gently push them away and get a better look, because right now Richie is beautiful. Not a word he’d normally use to describe the Trashmouth, but maybe it only takes him not running his mouth to make Stan view him in a different light.

“What are you staring at?”, Bev whispers next to him.

“Sleeping Trashmouth, so quiet”, he says, turning back to his geography notes.

Bev follows his gaze and smiles. “Never seen him look so peaceful.”

“Only way he could be any quieter is if he were dead”, he jokes, grinning to himself.

She gives him a confused look and turns back to her own work. Well, if Richie were awake, he might’ve thought it was funny.

 

* * *

 

Stan hates smoke. Hates the way it tastes, hates the way it smells and stays in your clothes forever, hates the way it breaks up a perfectly good moment because suddenly his friends have to drop everything and fuel their addiction.

Bev and Richie have the decency to at least not smoke in the house and stand huddled together outside. Stan can see them through the window, watches Richie say something that sends Bev into a fit of laughter and makes Richie’s lips curl into a proud grin. He takes another drag from his cigarette, holding it with long, pale fingers. It’s when he exhales, his lips slightly pursed, eyes closed, perfectly calm that Stan rethinks his stand on smoke. Maybe he doesn’t hate it as much as he thought, because for some reason he really likes watching Richie smoke. He looks beautiful as he does and Stan longs to be out there with them and be part of these little private moments they share. Doesn’t he spend enough time with Richie already? They walk to school together, they sit together at lunch, they share most of their classes and they hang out almost every day after school. It’s still not enough. He can’t get enough of Richie, but he doesn’t want to think about what that means.

When they come back inside, Richie squeezes onto the couch, back into his previous spot between Eddie and Bill. Eddie, who hates smoke even more than Stan, gets up and voluntarily sits on the floor.

“Come on, Eds, don’t leave me like this. I’m going to get cold without you by my side”, Richie calls.

“Shut up, Richie! I’m trying to watch a movie.”

Stan, who’s been sitting in front of the couch the whole time, pretends not to care about Richie’s word choice. He’s just Richie, he’s always been like that with Eddie and it’s not like Eddie likes it, right?

He almost jumps when Richie taps him on the shoulder.

“There’s room up here now, Stan”, he says.

Stan can smell the smoke on his breath, on his fingers. It might have made Richie look beautiful, but it still makes him gag, so he shakes his head. “No, you smell like a rat crawled into your mouth and died there.”

“It’s not that bad, princess.”

No, it really isn’t, but it’s still bad and he’s happy here on the floor, where Richie won’t lean on him and he can’t stare at Richie instead of focusing on the movie. Someone might notice.

 

* * *

 

The music from Richie’s radio is blaring through the Barrens, a stupid song about being young and free and in love, but it has a good beat and Stan can’t keep still. None of them can. Mike is nodding along to the music, Bill is taping his fingers on the comic he’s reading, Ben is half-dancing while still reading his library book and Eddie, being Eddie, is already dancing by himself, it’s not even half-bad looking.

Bev grabs Richie’s hand and pulls him up to dance with her, his arm comes around her waist easily as they move in circles. She shrieks as he dips her and laughs when he spins her around. For someone with such long and awkward limbs, Richie looks to be quite good at it. Stan is not much of a dancer himself, but maybe he wouldn’t mind as much if it was with Richie. Who would laugh at him if he was with Richie in his ginormous glasses and ridiculous Hawaiian shirts? Would he even care if someone laughed, if Richie dipped him like that with the sunlight reflecting in his warm, dark curls and the glasses sliding down his long, freckly nose?

Richie lets go of Bev and moves on to dancing with Eddie, who complains about it, but doesn’t actively try to get away from him. Bev just pulls Ben up to dance with her instead, he is blushing fiercely but follows her anyway.

“Richie, no!”, Eddie yells as the taller boy grabs him by his hands and they start spinning in circles.

Richie howls with manic laughter, his hair flying around his face. No, Stan would not enjoy being in Eddie’s place right now, but somehow he’s still sad it’s not him, not him making Richie laugh like that.

“We’re going to fall, asshole!”

“No, we’re not. Look, I’ve got you!”

Richie’s fingers are curled tightly around Eddie’s wrists, Eddie holding on for dear life. They’ve always been like this, it’s the first time that it bothers Stan. What happened to Richie and Stan? They were friends too, best friends, or so Stan thought, yet Richie never acted like this with him. It’s probably because he thinks Eddie is beautiful the way Stan thinks Richie is. It’s because Eddie might be Richie’s Richie.

“Come on, boys”, Bev shouts at the remaining sitting losers. “Come join us.”

Mike doesn’t have to be asked twice, Bill follows reluctantly, but Stan remains sitting on his blanket. He doesn’t feel much like dancing anymore.

“Stan the man!”

Richie has let go of Eddie now. He’s standing safely on both his legs, no falling involved. When Stan looks at him, he tries to look as annoyed as possible, it doesn’t take much effort.

“Don’t be such a killjoy, come dance”, Richie says, holding out his hand for Stan to take.

He gives him a tight-lipped smile. “I will dance”, he says, pushing himself off the ground. “But not with you.”

Richie blinks at him, then he starts to laugh and throws an arm around Stan’s shoulder regardless of what he just said.

 

* * *

 

The laughter of his friends fades away as they start to get out of the water. Stan is usually the first one to bail, always getting cold first, but he doesn’t really mind. He likes lying in the sun, warming up and watching them dunk and spray each other. Sometimes they race each other to the shore and Mike always wins.

Something cold and wet hits his stomach and chest and his eyes fly open. Richie looms over him, showing off all his teeth in a wide grin.

“Rich, you’re blocking the sun”, he mumbles before closing his eyes again. “And you’re getting me all wet.”

“That’s what Eddie’s mom said last night.”

Stan opens his eyes purely so Richie can see he’s rolling them. Eddie must not have heard or there would be angry yelling. Richie spreads his towel out next to him and lies down, holding his hand up for a high-five, but Stan only grabs his wrist and pulls it down. Rejecting Richie’s high-fives always gives him a little bit of satisfaction and he wonders if he’d feel better or worse if he’d actually grant him one. Probably worse… probably, maybe.

“There’s no way you didn’t see that coming”, Richie says.

“Is that what you told Mrs. K last night?”

He almost laughs at the way Richie’s eyes widen, but manages to hold it in. If his lips twitch, there’s nothing he can do about that, not when Richie stares at him like that… in awe maybe? There’s water dripping from his wet curls and trapped in his lashes. A single drop runs down the side of his cheek, making Stan’s fingers itch with the need to brush it away. How can someone with such a filthy mouth be so beautiful?

“Stanley Uris, you continue to surprise me. Can I at least get one for that?”

He holds up his hand again, this time Stan considers giving in, considers it for at least five seconds before deciding against it. Hey, five seconds is longer than usual, you could call it progress.

“No, you can’t, Trashmouth.”

High-fiving Richie is dangerous. Not only because he can’t encourage his behavior, but he fears he won’t let go of Richie’s hand and just make it awkward for everyone, so he keeps to touching him as little as possible. Just to be safe.

 

* * *

 

There’s still straw raining down around them as they all sit or lie on the floor in Mike’s barn, trying to catch their breaths. It might have been Richie who started it, because that’s just who he is, but Stan can’t remember who threw the first handful of straw at who. In the end, they’d all joined in. Even Eddie who’d been complaining about allergies and germs the whole time and Stan who already dreaded how long it’d take him to get the straw out of his hair and clothes.

“Oh God, my Dad’s going to kill me”, Mike says, looking at the mess they made. There’s straw everywhere

Bill shakes his head. “Don’t worry. We’ll help you cl-l-l-lean it up, ruh-right?” The way he looks at all of them, it’s clear it’s not really a question.

“Of course”, Bev says. There’s probably not one of them who would’ve declined anyway. Well, Richie might have done it for fun, to rile them up, but he’d be the first one to help.

His eyes land on the boy next to him. Always next to him. Stan doesn’t know if he does it on purpose or if it’s always been this way, but it’s only now that he notices Richie is always by his side. It’s not that he minds it’s just… It’s kind of hard not to touch someone you want to touch so badly, when they’re always in arms reach.

Richie pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, still breathing heavily, but there’s a lazy smile on his lips. How is he always smiling, always happy? It’s one of the things he lo-… likes about him. Sometimes he wishes he could be like that, could be carefree and do whatever he wants.

There’s straw in his hair, contrasting the dark colour and there’s red scratches on his arms and neck from fingernails or from the straw, who knows. Richie doesn’t seem to notice them, and all Stan wants to do is run his fingers down the lines.

Before he can stop himself he’s already reached his hand out. In a feeble attempt to make this less weird, his hand lands in Richie’s hear instead. The taller boy turns to him, eyebrows raised.

He quickly pulls some straw free from Richie’s curls and holds it up. “You’re a mess.”

“Yeah, so are you”, Richie laughs and retrieves some straw from Stan’s hair. His hand is so close then, so close he could just turn his head and kiss his palm. The thought frightens Stan so much he goes completely stiff. Think about it? Kissing Richie’s hand, very bad. Kissing Richie’s hand in front of all the other Losers… he might as well die.

“Hey”, Richie says, nudging his shoulder. “I thought we were grooming each other.”

“We’re not apes, Richie.”

“Not anymore, but some people haven’t fully evolved yet.”

Stan flicks the straw he’s still holding into Richie’s face. “Definitely not helping you now, dipshit.”  

“Aw, Stanny”, Richie whines, grabbing his hand and guiding it back into his hair. For such unruly curls, they are surprisingly soft. “You can’t stop. Where’s your commitment?”

“I’m still committed to being your friend, I think that’s more than enough.” But he doesn’t pull back. He tries to be as normals as possible, not showing how much he likes running his fingers through Richie’s hair. Hiding how his heart almost stops when Richie scoots closer and starts pulling straw from his curls. They are so close, he could count all the freckles on Richie’s nose, he has to keep his eyes trained on the hair to keep himself from doing it. If Richie notices how hot Stan’s cheeks are burning, he isn’t mentioning it. For once.

 

* * *

 

“Stop! Stop!”, Richie yelps, holding his hands up in defeat.

His glasses have fallen from his face, his cheeks are flushed and his clothes are rumpled. Just like the neat sheets on his bed, where they were lying and listening to music and reading comics just a few minutes ago. Stan has a perfect view of it all from where he’s sitting on Richie’s hips, hands still on his sides.

“Are you giving up?”, he asks, digging his fingers into Richie’s ribs one more time, making the boy squirm beneath him.

“Admit defeat? Never! I want a truce.”

“But I’m winning, why would I agree to that?” And he hadn’t even started the dumb tickle fight, but he was determined to finish it.

As long as he isn’t thinking too much about how soft Richie looks without his glasses and how much he wants to touch the pale skin where his shirt has been pulled down enough to reveal his sharp collarbone, he’s fine. Too bad he just started thinking about it. How was he supposed to function normally when his best friend was so beautiful? Why would the universe challenge him like this?

“Because you love me?”, Richie tries, batting his eyelashes at him.

Stan snorts. “That won’t work on me.” Only it does. Hopefully Richie won’t do that again.

But, of course, he does. “Please, Stan.”

He takes a deep breath, it doesn’t help with how close he is to just lean down and kiss Richie. He can’t do that though. He’s known Richie forever and he can’t ruin that, can’t ruin his friendship with the other Losers when they find out. But Richie is lying there, staring up at him with pleading eyes and pouty lips and all he can think is, yes, he does love him.

“Do it f-…”

“You’re beautiful!”, Stan blurts. He doesn’t know where it comes from, well, he knows, but he thought he’d had a good grip on it. He wasn’t supposed to ever tell Richie.

“What?”

Rolling off Richie, he sits with his knees tucked to his chest, staring at the sheets while his whole face burns with shame.

Richie sits up and fumbles for his glasses. Stan finds them next to him and holds them out. Maybe if he just ignores Richie, he’ll leave and they can forget he ever said anything.

“Stan, what?”

“Nothing”, he mumbles. “I said, you’re dumb.”

“No, you didn’t. My eyes might not be the best, but I hear like a bat.”

“Not a moment ago, you didn’t. I clearly said you’re dumb. I don’t know what you heard.” He doesn’t know why he’s even arguing. Maybe if he makes a big joke out of it, it won’t mean anything. Only it means so much. Even if Richie won’t take it seriously, he will still be staring and wondering and longing… and loving him. Shit.

Richie sits on his knees in front of him, cocking his head to the side. “You’re the worst. You can’t give a compliment and then take it back. You seriously suck at flirting.”

Stan glares at him. “I wasn’t flirting.”

“Well, I was.”

He searches Richie’s eyes, waiting for him to crack, but he never does. No snort, no laughter, no grin. Just a soft, almost shy smile as Richie stares back, waiting for some kind of response. But he got to be joking, right? Richie doesn’t like him like that. If he likes anyone like that it’s Eddie with all the banter and nicknames, or Bev who is so pretty and laughs at all his jokes and like all the same stuff.

“Then you suck at it too” is what he says. Maybe not the best response, but it does keep him from freaking out completely. Richie’s been flirting with him? Richie likes him? As much as he tries to keep a straight face, he can’t contain the smile forming on his lips. Richie likes him.

Richie chuckles nervously. “Maybe so, but at least I’m not the one trying to cover up a compliment with an insult.”

But insulting Richie is so much easier than telling the truth. It’s what he’s used to, it’s safe. He takes another deep breath, then brings his hands up to cup Richie’s cheeks. He’s so warm, so soft.

“Fine”, Stan breathes. “I think you’re beautiful. Not just now, I think you’re beautiful all the time.”

“Well, shit, Stanley”, Richie says. Is he closer now? Their noses are almost touching, he’s definitely closer. “How am I supposed to one up that, huh? I think you’re amazing and will think you’re amazing forever. How about that?”

“How about you shut up?”

“Make me.” The words are barely above a whisper, Richie’s lips almost brushing against Stan’s already. It’s the first time Stan is complied to follow one of Richie’s orders, the first time Richie’s orders make complete sense to him.

When their lips finally meet, they melt together perfectly. Richie’s lips are so soft and warm against his own and he tastes sweet, probably the gummy bears he’d been eating while reading. The glasses are in the way, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s not like Stan had imagined it at all, it’s better. There’s so much of Richie, so much he feels enveloped by him. The smell is all Richie, the taste is Richie and the heat bleeding into Stan’s body not only from their lips but from Richie’s hands on his thighs, from Richie’s skin underneath his fingers. Maybe he won’t ever be able to live with less Richie. This is the perfect amount of Richie right here.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write something short and cute for these two idiots
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr @itchierichie


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